


Nothing unusual, nothing strange

by waferkya



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-11
Updated: 2012-02-11
Packaged: 2017-10-30 23:42:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/337501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waferkya/pseuds/waferkya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caspian dreams of the East.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing unusual, nothing strange

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to decide whether or not the characters of the Chronicles of Narnia (in this case, Edmund) are underage or not always gives me a splitting headache, because, you know, multiple lives, shifting time perception, actors' ages vs. what the books say... so, I decided to trust in Alexander the Great's methods, and I won't be using Archive Warnings. Heck yeah.

Caspian dreams of the East. Not a fortnight ago he was fighting Giants up in the North, his sword and his shield heavy on his wrists, his lips burnt from the never-ending blizzard and, when he looked around and forth, all he could see was the enemy and then snow, snow, snow everywhere. He felt the roar of the Golden Lion buried deep down in his chest, then; it was like Aslan ha eaten the heart out of him, and hid himself in there, inbetween Caspian's cold-bruised lungs, to give him strength, to give him faith.

 

And strength and faith he had, and so did his men, and when the war was over Caspian felt like a King for the first time; standing alone on the top of a frozen hill, looking down at the remnants of the battle, only a few little fights still going like the last sparkles of a dying fire, he thought he finally, finally knew what it meant, being King of the Narnians.

 

He dreams of the East, now.

 

All wars are settled, there's no more battles to be fought and Narnia has finally found peace for the first time in centuries, and Caspian is the one who brought it to Her; he is tired, now, tired of the castle he wanted to be rebuilt, tired of Council meetings, of ambassadors from foreign countries demanding audience, tired of signing and signing and signing paper after paper after paper, every day, like that is what Kings were made for. And he knows it is; he knows bureaucracy is part of his duties as sovereign, he _knows_ , Cornelius explained and he learnt and he has always known the day would come when he has to prove himself as worthy of the throne as he is of his suit of armour.

 

He can't help longing for something different, though. He can't help longing for freedom.

 

Narnia needs him to attend celebrations and feasts, now, instead of strolling through bloody pits, dangerous mountain passes and frozen woods; She needs him to be merciful and kind in his judgement, instead of ready and willing to face certain death, uncountable enemies, and winning anyway.

 

Narnia asks for a wedding, She needs her King to give Her an heir.

 

Caspian dreams of the East, instead. Sometimes he sits on the highest tower in the castle, where he knows no-one will come looking for him, not even his dear professor, and he stares out to the horizon. He thinks of what's beyond the ocean, of all the islands in the East, unknown and far, so far away; in his mind he wanders off so long he finds himself at the limits of Aslan's Country, but he never dares stepping in, not even in thought.

 

The wind is calling his name, Caspian thinks he can hear it. Whenever he closes his eyes, the voice gets louder, firm. _Caspian_ , it sings, sweet and tempting; _Caspian_. It is not real, though; Caspian knows that. It's just his unruly heart, restless between the high walls of the castle, trying to lure him away.

 

Caspian cannot give in. Narnia needs him to get old and wrinkled and grey, and grey and wrinkled and old he shall get, if it's the only way he can protect his people, his kingdom; for Her, he shall be a just King with a boring life. He has to.

 

Nevertheless, he can't stop his dreams of the East, of what's beyond, and even next. It haunts him when he's awake and it haunts him in his sleep; the voice calls him, _begs_ him to listen, and Caspian keeps pushing it back because it is his duty.

 

He needs a child to tie him to Cair Paravel, a small, fragile child whose wailing will choke away the soft whispers of the wind. He never starts looking for a wife, and in the end, the East wins him over, because there's just so much strength a man, even a King, and especially Caspian, can find in himself.

 

The last night he spends in the castle, his dreams are the clearest they've ever been. The ocean stretches endlessly, blue and aquamarine and fading into the soft curve of the sky; there are islands, too, so many Caspian can't count them, and a dragon, and sea-snakes and rocks sharp enough to cut through a boat with no effort, and he sees a castle, and stars, and waves as tall as mountains.

 

And then there's _the East_ , right there on his treader, dark eyes and darker hair and a quiet, sweet smile. Caspian wakes up with Edmund's name on his lips, and for the first time since the war ended, he's happy. He feels alive.


End file.
